


Till Thought Is Blind

by BetsyByron



Category: Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom, bondlock - Fandom
Genre: Brothers, Crossover, Developing Relationship, Discovery, Double Dating, Established Relationship, Half-Brothers, Holmes Brothers, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, M/M, Q is a Holmes, but they don't know, yet another headcannon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:11:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 12,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetsyByron/pseuds/BetsyByron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Bond and John Watson are friends from their military service. When they meet again in London, they talk about the men in their lives, and suggest they should get acquainted.</p><p>Q and Sherlock have a lot of things in common: a highly functional brain beneath a nest of dark curls, a thing for loyal and strong blond guys, and a father. </p><p>Not that any of them is aware of that fact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is divided into a bunch of dwarfish chapters for no good reason except that I get a kick out of end-of-chapter punchlines :) so here is the first bunch, and more will come when I have time to write more (this was written when I was writing fanfiction in between writing fanfiction. Now, as I mentionned in the last update of Hurricane Drunk, life is getting busier...)
> 
> For evident reasons this is set before Sherlock gets famous and his name is all over the papers. And I guess after Skyfall. In other words, at the Undefined Time of Lazy Fanfiction.
> 
> Very chatty this one. I'm always more dialogue than description, this is taking it to a further extent...

Life with Sherlock being what it was, John was more than happy to get out of the flat that night to reconnect with an old acquaintance.

He hadn’t seen James Bond since their military service, although they had exchanged a few phone calls over the years, a few cards, a few emails, to keep the illusion of their friendship going.

Not that their friendship was an illusion. But without seeing each other in years, it was a little bit of a stretch to pretend they were still as close as they used to be.

Which was why John had been delighted when, phoning James on the off chance as Sherlock was being particularly unbearable, he discovered that he was in London and very ready to go out for a drink.

“Damn you!” John laughed when he spotted James waiting for him at the bar, dressed casually but looking positively dashing. “You stayed fit; you make me look like an old lazy-ass.”

“Well.” James answered, slapping him on the back cheerfully. “Your lazy ass in not limping anymore, so I’d say that’s an improvement.”

“True.” John smiled.

They talked for a while, about everything and nothing in particular, until James came back on the subject of the now-gone limp.

“So, who’s the good influence in your life?” He asked. “Please don’t tell me it’s your talented shrink.”

“No.” John laughed. “It’s my flatmate – well, I’m not sure _good influence_ really collocates with him. But he’s a madman, and I’m never bored, so I really don’t have time to remember I have a psychosomatic limp.”

James hummed appreciatively.

“Tell me more.”

“It’s not like that.” John denied. “We’re just friends. Which is already saying a lot for him, trust me.”

“He sounds like a charmer.” James sneered.

John proceeded on defending Sherlock, trying to paint a more positive yet still accurate picture. The balance was rather difficult to strike.

“I see.” James said at the end of the exposition.

“You see what?”

“You are so taken with this guy you convinced yourself being _friends_ was good enough because you were afraid it could be nothing instead.”

John opened his mouth to protest, but James cut him off.

“Don’t try to deny it, the exact same thing happened to me, I know what I’m talking about. I worked it out, so there’s hope for you and your detective.”

It successfully distracted John’s intention.

“You? James Bond, settling down? Fancy that. Oh but I doubt it ‘the exact same thing’.”

“Actually.” James answered. “You’d be surprised at how similar it is. Guy – yes, guy, close your mouth. Guy I work with, total genius, therefore completely inapt at normal human interaction, so even friendship was sort of a win, until, well. It became clear we had both been thinking about the next step. Some months ago. It’s going well.”

“You are dating a guy?” John picked up, baffled. “You, are _dating,_ a _guy?”_

“I know.” James sighed. “But if I may remark, John Watson, you are in love with your flatmate. The heart wants what the heart wants. I stopped trying to fight it, you should too.”

“I’m not gay.” John protested tepidly.

“Neither am I. But the fact is I want Q.”

“Q?” John repeated.

“Yeah.” James shrugged. “Secret services, you know. I think it suits him.”

John frowned, and after a moment of silence, he asked:

“You don’t actually know his name do you?”

James winced ever so slightly.

“Secret services.” He repeated as a justification.

“You don’t know your own boyfriend’s name!” John exclaimed, unsure if he should laugh, be mad or be sorry. “For crying out loud.”

“Yeah, get back to me when you have the guts to ask yours out.” James snapped back teasingly.

“It’s more complicated than that.” John sighed.

“Maybe he feels just the same about you, you know.”

“Hm.” John snuffed. “You haven’t met him.”

“Let’s.”

“What?”

“Let me meet him. I’m a good reader of people. Then I can tell you how he feels.”

John couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“Oh James, as far as readers of people are concerned, I’m afraid Sherlock would kick your ass in about the time you need to down a martini. Besides.” He added with less glee. “He doesn’t feel.”

James ignored the attack on his ego and focused on his friend instead.

“John, this is not like you to give up without even trying.”

“I will not make a fool of myself for the sake of trying.”

“I’ve got an idea.” James smiled mischievously.

“Oh, I’m not sure I want to hear it.”

“Let’s double date.”

“Double... I’m not even... This is a stupid-ass idea, Bond.”

“No, think about it. When your Shylock sees that-”

“Sherlock.” John corrected.

“Sherlock.” James rolled his eyes. “When he sees Q and me together, it might be the little push he needs for things to click into place. You and I are the same type of man, and from what you tell me of your darling and as far as I know Q, they are quite similar too. He’ll be able to relate. It’ll put the possibility in his mind, then you just have to ask.”

John shook his head, looking almost sorry, as if James was really speaking nonsense.

“It’s not like he doesn’t know couples exist.” He said.

“Yes, but this time he’ll have direct comparison. Him being frigid, and Q opposite him being the lethal combination of a complete genius and my sexy boyfriend. I can throw in a few shady allusions to our time in the army to make him jealous.”

John was still frowning dubiously.

“Nothing happened between us in the army.” He reminded his friend.

“Does he need to know that?” James smirked.

“I’m not sure it would work on him.”

“Come on!” James insisted. “What do you have to lose? If he’s as uncompromising as you make him sound, you’ll just go back to your platonic domestic partnership. But if it sparks the smallest reaction in him, then you’re in for the win, Johnny.”

John had a pout.

“Come on.” James repeated. “If only because I’m curious to meet the man who made you fall.”

John sighed.

“Fine.”


	2. Chapter 2

“You what?”

Q looked like he was wondering if he should even dignify James’s nonsense by getting angry.

“Agreed to a double date.” James repeated – he was conveniently omitting the part where it was his own idea. “Come on, you keep complaining I never treat you to anything.”

“I hardly consider a double date a treat.” Q replied coolly. 

“It’s not that bad either. John is an old mate, he needs help getting his guy, that’s the least I can do.”

“I’m not your own private matchmaking tool!” The young Quartermaster protested.

“You might enjoy yourself.” James challenged him. 

“Going on a double date with your old army friend and his emotionally impaired flatmate?”

“Meeting a good friend of mine and his very smart flatmate. You might even find an intellectual match for yourself.”

Q’s lips twitched into a smirk.

“Allow me to doubt that.”

“No, honestly. I hear he’s a genius.”

“You hear he’s a genius.” Q repeated. “From the man who’s in love with him.”

“I’m in love with you, and I think you’re an idiot.”

He said that with such a smile it was completely impossible to believe, and even gave Q a glimpse of his hidden agenda.

“You want to show me off.” He accused.

James’s silence was enough of a confirmation.

“And how do you propose to introduce me?”

“You could tell me your name.” James suggested.

“No.”

This was obviously not a negotiation. 

“I’m your boyfriend.” James objected.

“And? It’s too dangerous for anyone to know, James, as you are well aware. Even if you’re my boyfriend. Which nobody should know about either, God, can you imagine the kind of leverage it could give someone over us?”

“John is not a criminal mastermind.” James noted. 

“No, but he’s all it takes for the news to get around.”

“You’re paranoid.”

“I’m careful. Of course you’re not worried, you have no family and you’re trained against torture.”

“I’m not worried?” James repeated, slightly offended. “Q, I would be defenceless if anyone threatened you. Torture I can take, but if it’s on my own body.”

“Then why do you insist we parade in public together?”

“I never said it had to be in public. I can cook at my place. It really doesn’t get any safer than that.”

This time Q laughed.

“You can cook.” He picked up. “Aren’t you the perfect boyfriend.”

He leaned in for a kiss, and James knew he had won his case.

“Fine. I guess I’ll be around, since I’m sleeping in your bed these days anyway. I’ll make an appearance for your guests.”

“Aren’t you the perfect boyfriend.” James kissed him back teasingly.


	3. Chapter 3

“Why would I subject myself to this?”

“I’m asking you nicely.” John frowned.

“Is it supposed to make a difference?” Sherlock raised a brow.

John rolled his eyes, and wondered for a second why he had even agreed to the stupid idea. But now he had, he couldn’t back up, or he would never cease to hear about it from James.

“Yes.” He sighed. “There is no reason for you to refuse this rudely.”

“I wasn’t rude, this was a fair question.” Sherlock noted.

“Not if you’re a socially apt human being.” John retorted. “But anyway, you drag me along to all sorts of weird and more or less case-related things; you can humour me and come along for one evening.”

“I just don’t understand why want me to accompany you to your friend’s dinner party.”

“Because his boyfriend will be there.” John repeated. “And I don’t fancy being the third wheel all night.”

“Then why are you going?” Sherlock insisted on being thick-headed. 

“Because James is an old friend, and the polite thing to do when people invite you over for dinner is to go. James said to bring you when I told him about you.”

“Did he now?”

“Yes, he though you would get along with his boyfriend. He said he’s a very clever man.”

“Not that he’s prejudiced.” Sherlock sneered.

“He used the word genius. I know James, he doesn’t blow things up. Well, he does, but not figuratively. Hm. Moving on.”

“A genius uh.”

“Even if he’s not, because obviously your ego wouldn’t stand admitting it, maybe you can have an actual conversation with him.” John put forward. 

Sherlock looked doubtful.

“Besides, you need to eat. And considering all’s left is the fridge is a box of toes...”

“What does he do, this clever man?” Sherlock asked, vaguely interested.

“Best way to find out is to come for dinner.”

“Very well.” Sherlock sighed. “But I reserve myself the right to walk out at any point of this masquerade.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Remember the first, and actually only time you cooked for me?”

“Hm...” James answered noncommittally.

Q looked down at the quiche hot out of the oven, remembering the previous one.

“Is there anything else you can cook?”

“I don’t think I have to answer to a man whose only skill as far as food is concerned is putting the kettle on.”

Q shrugged.

“I don’t see why I should bother if other people can do it a lot better than me. Might as well focus on doing the things I’m doubtlessly the best at.”

“Can you try being good at conversation tonight?”

“I’m brilliant at conversation.”

“I mean a conversation others can actually follow.”

“Well.” Q smiled. “If your friend’s friend is as clever as you painted him, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

He came closer, wrapping his arms around James and squeezing his ass playfully.

“And you love it when you can’t get a word I’m saying. My IQ turns you on.”

“It does.” James conceded, granting him a kiss. “But I’d like John to think I’m a lucky guy, and not a poor bastard stuck with an insufferable smartass.”

“I shall try to make you proud.” Q smiled, and angled for another kiss.

James obliged.

When the doorbell rang they took a minute to tuck their shirts back in, and James flattened Q’s hair the best he could (which was not very successfully).

When James opened the door, Q by his side like a perfect boyfriend, it was like looking at themselves in a distorting mirror. John and James, the blond, muscled ones, one taller one shorter, one in his coat and one in his shirt. Sherlock and Q, the lanky ones, dark mess of black curls, one shorter one taller, one in his cardigan and one in his scarf.

John and James were happy to see each other and pulled/pushed everyone in very happily. On the other hand, there was instant discomfort between Sherlock and Q. They felt each other too similar. They felt the danger of actually meeting someone who measured up intellectually – it screamed _enemy_ right ahead. Whether the two others felt that something was off or not, James soon put a hand on the back on Q’s neck affectionately and introduced him with a proud smile.

“So, this is Ben.”

They had agreed on a generic name for the sake of convenience for the evening. James had no doubt it was nowhere near what Q’s real name sounded like.

“Nice to meet you.” ‘Ben’ said, extending a hand to John (“John Watson”) then to Sherlock.

That was when everything went to hell.

When Q heard “Sherlock Holmes”, he jerked his hand back as if he had burned himself. His eyes went wide behind his glasses, and he looked at James almost accusingly, with a hint of despair.

“What’s wrong?” James worried.

“Sherlock Holmes.” Q repeated in a strangled voice.

He was pointedly not looking at the man in question.

“Excuse me.”

He ran off, and they heard him lock himself in the bathroom. There was a moment of stunned silence.

“Is he a fan?” Sherlock gambled.

“A fan?” James frowned.

“He has a website.” John provided.

“I don’t think he’s ever heard your name before.” James denied.

“Well obviously he has.” Sherlock contested. “Given the way he reacted to it.”

“If you’ll excuse me.” James said. “Make yourself at home, please. There is wine in the fridge and scotch on the counter.”

He left them there and went to knock softly on the bathroom door.

“Q? Let me in?”

After a moment of deliberation, Q opened up, let James in, and locked the door back behind him as if it made him feel safe.

“Did you know?” He accused. “No of course you didn’t, how would you know. Oh, God, what am I supposed to do.”

“Are you going to explain? Because I’m not really in tune with the problem here.”

“I think he’s my brother.” Q said in a very small voice.


	5. Chapter 5

“Very nice, your friends.” Sherlock said sarcastically after some ten minutes of sitting alone in the living room.

“Until proven otherwise, this is your fault.” John retorted. “I don’t know what you did to upset this man, but-”

“I have never met him in my life.” Sherlock defended himself. “Although I have to say he looks annoyingly familiar.”

“He looks like you, that’s why.” John said. 

Sherlock shook his head slowly.

“He looks more like the old picture I have of my father, what with the glasses.”

He frowned, looked up towards the bathroom, looking like he’d just realized something.

“What?” John asked.

“I don’t think I ever told you about my father.” Sherlock stated.

“No, you haven’t.” John confirmed.

“He left us. Well. Mother kicked him out when she found out...when I pointed out to her some clues that made her deduce he was having an affair.”

“You broke up your parents’ marriage?” 

Sherlock shrugged.

“Why do you think Mycroft resents me? He idolized our father. The point is, he left. I was five then.”

“I’m not sure where this is going.” John confessed.

Sherlock was still looking in the general direction of the bathroom.

“How much younger than me do you think he might be?”


	6. Chapter 6

“You think he’s your brother?”

Q regained his composure, exactly the way he did when he was faced with a trick situation at work.

“So much for keeping my private life private.” He sighed, and resigned himself to explain. “Ah, long story short, when my dad walked out on us when I was thirteen my mom bitched about him making a habit of abandoning his kids, and it didn’t take much more for me to find out he had had a family before. A previous Mrs Holmes who gave him two boys. My two half-brothers.”

“And you’re sure this man is...” James said appealingly. “I mean, Holmes is a common enough name to leave room for uncertainty.”

“Holmes is.” Q agreed. “Sherlock isn’t.”

“Ah, fair enough. You found out their names then.”

“Of course I did.” He bit his thumb nail nervously. “He will hate me.”

“Why?” James asked thoughtlessly, not seeing how anyone could hate Q.

“Why?” Q repeated. “Take a wild guess. Our common father left his mother for mine. And I’m not even sure he knows I exist.”

James walked to the door and resolutely unlocked it.

“Let’s find out.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are two little chapters for you :)

Sherlock was the one to break the awkward silence between the four of them – neither James nor John thought it was their place to engage this conversation, and Q was just staring at Sherlock with a mixture of awe and worry.

“I don't think I caught your name.” Sherlock then said eventually.

Q looked down, and back up to the man. He looked like a child. James had never seen him look anything but confident, and he didn’t know if he wanted to take him into his arms or to shake him back to his old smart-assy self.

“Ebenezer Holmes.” Q dropped.

He probably had expected Sherlock to storm out, or slap him, or something in the same spirit. Instead he extended his hand to Q – or indeed Ben, as James realized.

“Nice to meet you.” He said. “I suspect you have the facts I'm missing to be a hundred percent sure we are, as it seems, brothers?”

Q nodded quietly.

“Care to share them?” Sherlock asked, failing to sound anything but irritated by his slowness.

It irritated Q in turn. Sure, there was an unexpected big brother standing in the living room. But it wasn't his fault if they had never met before and he was certainly not going to stand here and be treated like an idiot.

“I’m sure you have the observation capacities required to notice a fair amount of facial similarities between us, highly likely to be genetic-based given my reaction to your name and the fact that I bear the same. If you really need me to spell it out, my mother was married to a Siger Holmes, and I discovered a decade ago that my father had previously left another family some time before he left us in the same way, so I looked up my half-brothers. Hence how I knew your first name.”

“A decade ago?” James reacted. “You’re _twenty-three_?”

“James.” Q sighed. “This is hardly the matter at hand.”

“Why is that all you did?” Sherlock asked.

“Sorry?”

“You said you looked us up. Why didn’t you try to meet us?”

From the way he was asking the question, he seemed to be finding it highly suspicious.

“Most people would have.” He added.

“I’m not most people.” Q replied. But after a pause, he went for honesty: “I was afraid to be rejected, if you want to know. I thought you would hate me. I had enough people hating me back when I was a teenager. From what I glimpse of your IQ and personality, I suspect you can relate.”

“Why would I hate you?” Sherlock shrugged. “The fault is not yours.”

“I stole your place.” Q justified. “I stole your father.”

“My father was driven out of our home by his own mistakes.” Sherlock replied. “Only after that did he produce you. The fact that I grew up without a father doesn’t mean I should hate anyone who did have the pleasure to be scolded into adulthood by the illustrious Siger Holmes, or anyone else.”

“Well.” Q said, with a hint of relief in his voice. “I’m glad you’re seeing things that way.”

Sherlock had a very Sherlock smile.

“I’m not most people either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see if you're reading my other verses, I'm having fun digging out names for Q-as-baby-Holmes ^^


	8. Chapter 8

Q crashed on the bed flat on his back.

“That was exhausting.” He sighed.

After the big reveal, he and Sherlock had talked for about two hours, about basically anything that wasn’t family. They tested each other’s intelligence for a while and, satisfied that they could both keep up, soon launched into conversations that left James and John far, far behind.

“Told you that you would spend a nice evening.” James said, lying next to him to slip a hand under his shirt and kiss the side of his neck. “Although I must admit I didn’t except it to be this eventful.” He bit softly into Q’s earlobe. “So you have brothers?”

“Half-brothers. And you’ve met Sherlock; I don’t think tonight will change anything to how they don’t belong in my life.”

James heaved himself up on an elbow, frowning.

“Are you serious here?”

“You think we’re going to suddenly do birthdays and Sunday roasts?”

“No, but you can’t just want your brothers out of your life like that. I understand why you didn’t go look for them at thirteen, but now here they are and they have, well Sherlock has, accepted you.”

“They were never into my life, James.” Q justified. “So they know I exist now. Sherlock didn’t look the type to make a fuss about it one way or the other. I don’t know about Mycroft. Maybe I’ll hear from him. I won’t cry if I don’t.”

“They’re your family.” James noted.

“No, they’re not.” Q denied. “They’re some kids my father had before me with another woman, who have developed into men I know absolutely nothing about. We didn’t grow up together; we don’t share anything except some DNA.”

“I don’t understand you.”

“That’s because you’re an orphan. I don’t mean to be insensitive. I just mean you miss having a family. But you can’t produce one for yourself, that’s not how it works. I didn’t stop being an only child when I found out there were other Holmes boys in the world.”

“I understand that.” James said. “What I don’t get is why you don’t want to give them a chance to truly become your brothers. Why you don’t want to know them better, to let them into your life.”

Q frowned.

“You know why.”

James looked dubious.

“James, I’m the MI6 Quartermaster. They like their staff no strings attached, especially with my level of clearance, and there’s a reason for that. I’m constantly a target, threats can come at any time and from anywhere. I don’t _need_ brothers to worry about.”

He closed his eyes for an instant, and James would have leant in to kiss his eyelids if it weren’t for the glasses. He was tempted to remove them, but Q opened his eyes slowly, and he gave James a little sad smile.

“I’m terrified enough from loving you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think this is going to be much longer; I'll bring Mycroft in the picture of course, but this is mostly about them meeting, so.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had forgotten entirely that I had written this. Don't know when I will be able to post more, but I'm trying to wrap up my WIP series so I might have more time after that (*cough* not that I have exams and a thesis to write...)

“What do you mean no?”

“I mean no, what else do you think I mean?”

John frowned even harder than he was already frowning.

“You’re not going to tell Mycroft that you have a younger brother?”

“Half-brother.” Sherlock replied. “And again, no. Mycroft can find out by himself. For all I know he is already aware of Ebenezer’s existence. That’s actually extremely likely. Did he tell me? No.”

“You really think if Mycroft knew about him he wouldn’t have told you?”

“Oh yes.”

“What is wrong with you guys.” John muttered.

After a pause, he added: “What about your mother?”

Sherlock had an almost pained sort of snort.

“I think I did enough harm.”

“Oh.” John realized. “Yes, of course, you might not be in the best position to...”

“No, I might not be.” Sherlock said, in a tone he hoped would put an end to the conversation.  

John let another moment of silence pass before he asked.

“What did you two talk about?”

“Oh!” Sherlock jerked as if he just remembered. “Yes, the case of the missing widower.”

He took out his phone and started typing frenetically. John frowned.

“Is that you changing the subject or did you actually talk about Lestrade’s cold cases?”

“We did.” Sherlock confirmed. “And he helped me solve that one. Clever kid.” He turned to John, thoughtful. “See that’s another reason. Mother is convinced the clever genes come from her side of the family. It would be cruel to prove her the contrary.”

“I understand that you don’t want to pain your mother.” John agreed. “But surely Mycroft-”

“Surely Mycroft already knows.” Sherlock insisted. “Think about it. He has a finger in every pie, as much literally as figuratively, including MI6. I would think he did a background check on a brand new, very young, and very talented Quartermaster.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be entirely confidential?” John argued.

“This is Mycroft we’re talking about. I’m sure he’s on first-name basis with half the highest clearance staff.”

“Well, they haven’t met anyway.” John noted. “Or Ebenezer would have mentioned it.” He paused, again, eventually processing all the information: “Did you say Quartermaster?”

“Obvious.” Sherlock said.

He didn’t need to go over his thought process for John to trust him on this. It didn’t stop him from being impressed.

“Isn’t he a bit young to be in the top ten highest responsibility and most vital people in Britain?”

Sherlock smiled, and John glimpsed how dishonest – or in denial – he was about this whole deal of discovering himself a little brother. Because what he saw in his eyes then, for an instant, was unmistakably pride.

“He’s a Holmes.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three of those short chapters coming up, one today, one tomorrow and one the next day!

A couple of weeks later, Mycroft had to intervene on a Yard case Sherlock was helping with.

“For the fifth time, Sherlock, stop acting like a child. This is much bigger than we thought.”

“I can handle it.” Sherlock insisted.

“No, you can’t.” Mycroft repeated.

“I don’t work well with others.” Sherlock justified.

Mycroft had announced he wanted to bring more people on the case, _more apt_ people, his words, which had set Sherlock against the idea definitely, in spite of Mycroft’s assurance that he meant the Yard, not him, and aptitude in terms of means rather than brainpower.

“I’m doing you a favour by even keeping you on the case.” Mycroft snapped. “MI6 don’t work well with other either. And they were going to take the case from the police anyway. By giving it to them I obtained that your help was, if not welcome, tolerated.”

Sherlock had perked up at ‘MI6’ and barely listened to the rest.

“You’re addressing the case to the MI6?” He held back a smile, without much success. “Q-branch, I suppose?”

“Yes.” Mycroft confirmed curtly. “Why?”

“No reason.” Sherlock’s smile widened. “So, am I to go there?”

“We’re going together.” Mycroft said – and if he hoped to deter Sherlock, he could only be confused by the poorly-hidden glee in his eyes. “I don’t usually involve myself physically in any case I hand over to the MI6, but I think this requires more presence than usual. The Government is closely... You don’t need to know. And someone has to keep an eye on you.”

“Of course.” Sherlock did not argue. “Is that all?”

“We’ll visit headquarters tomorrow morning. Have your data ready, and it would be a bonus if it was at least partly transferrable from a memory stick rather than from the top of your head. Good day.”

Sherlock had had years to practice reading his brother. There was no doubt about this.

“You don’t know then.” He smiled innocently.

Mycroft was already at the door, and turned back with a sigh.

“What?”

“To whom you’re handing the case.”

“To the Quartermaster himself.” Mycroft answered, rolling his eyes because it hardly needed saying. “And from what I’ve heard, he’s an extremely competent young man. New to the job, but no less efficient. Some say the best Quartermaster the MI6 has ever seen. Is that enough for you?”

“Oh, that’s perfect.” Sherlock grinned. “Absolutely perfect.”


	11. Chapter 11

“You were right.”

John’s mouth twitched up, but he knew not to pop the champagne yet.

“Well, that’s rare enough.” He said. “About what?”

He fully expected something along the lines of the choice of fabric softener.

“Mycroft doesn’t know.” Sherlock announced.

“About...” John made sure. “About your half-brother?”

“Yes, what else.”

“Did you tell him?” John asked.

“Where would be the fun in that?” Sherlock almost chuckled. “He’ll see for himself tomorrow.”

He sat up on the couch from his sprawled position.

“Oh yes, didn’t I say? Our case got reassigned to the MI6 for help. They have more means, and apparently it is a matter of national security. Lestrade is not too happy about it, so I promised I’ll keep him updated. I’m still on it, courtesy of Mycroft. Who doesn’t know.”

“That he’s referring the case to his own brother?” John sighed – unbelievable what a big kid Sherlock could be.

“Tomorrow ought to be fun.”

“You’re evil.” John accused. “Are you going to warn Ebenezer at least?”

“Why would I?”

“He was shocked enough to meet you.” John reminded him.

“He’s a big boy.” Sherlock shrugged. “And a professional. And I’d be surprised if he’s never heard of Mycroft, given both their positions. He must expect to see him crack around sooner or later.”

“You said the same thing about Mycroft.” John pointed out. “And it turns out he doesn’t suspect Ebenezer’s whereabouts in the slightest – unless he’s become an excellent actor.”

“He hasn’t.” Sherlock settled.

“So what makes you think-”

“It’s not the first time Mycroft has asked the MI6 for cooperation. He doesn’t actually sign his memos _The British Government_. Ben surely saw his name before. He probably knows we’re coming. After all, this is a big case.”

He smiled again, predatory.

“Let’s see who figures it out first.”


	12. Chapter 12

“You look pale.”

“Do I?” Q looked up nervously. “Both my brothers will be here any minute. Both my brothers, James. And everyone will notice, and ask questions, and-”

“No one will notice.” James tried to reassure him.

He had received a warning text by John, which he appreciated, although Q knew and had already vented to him as soon as he’d found out a certain _Mycroft Holmes_ was asking for their help and resources on a case, and bringing some of his own resources – namely the grey matter of his brother Sherlock Holmes. Too many Holmeses in one place, if you asked Q. James personally thought it would be interesting.

“There are plenty of clever people with dark hair in the world, and especially in our profession.” He said, still trying to calm Q down. “Look at – what’s his name, that guy, the one who’s in love with you? I mean, who refills your tea even when you don’t ask.”

Q rolled his eyes.

“Matthew?”

“Well, Matthew. He’s physically the same type you are, and has a perfectly decent IQ. It doesn’t mean he’s your brother. Besides, you have proof everybody in Q-branch is your devoted slave, to the point they will never ask any questions.”

Q frowned.

“What proof?”

“Me.” Bond grinned. “Did anyone ever ask you about our relationship? Yet it’s rather hard to miss.”

“Hm, you have a point.” Q conceded. “Although it’s not my staff I’m worried about.”

James had a little laugh.

“Welcome to being embarrassed by your family, I guess.” He said.

It would have been cruel to point out that James hardly had any family to embarrass him, so Q just glared.

“It’ll be fine.” James made amends, stealing a kiss even if they were in a rather passing corridor. “Anyway, from what I hear of this case, you won’t have time to worry about family matters. Come on now. Work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean I'm torturing the reader?  
> There there, you'll get the next chapter tomorrow. (or maybe even later today). And another fun one on Sunday.  
> Check my other works too! :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update because you're lovely lovely readers :)

Q had expected Mycroft to look more like Sherlock and him, given how much they both took after their father, but he recognized him immediately nonetheless.

And going by the expression on his face, Mycroft didn’t – or at least did a very good job pretending as much.

He broke into a polite smile, walked up to Q’s desk and extended a hand.

“Ah, Quartermaster.” He said. “Very nice to meet you. I’ve heard wonders about your work here.”

Q shook his hand hesitantly.

“Mr Holmes.” He said. “Your work hasn’t gone unnoticed either.”

He looked around nervously – no sign of Sherlock. Mycroft interpreted his restlessness as eagerness to get to work. He didn’t have a reputation for efficiency based on waiting around for people to show up.

“Yes, hum, my brother stopped for the restroom.” Mycroft explained. “I hope you will not think I am exerting any kind of nepotism here. Sherlock is a...somewhat difficult man, but he’s an excellent detective, and I’m sure his insight on the case could be useful.”

“Yes.” Q breathed out sharply. “Look, can we cut the crap?”

The room fell silent. Most people there knew who Mycroft Holmes was or at least who and what he represented, and he was not a man you addressed in this manner. Which rather showed in the stunned look on his face.

“Oh, God.” Q realized, bringing a hand up to hide his own face. Mycroft hadn’t been pretending. “You have no idea who I am.”

That was when Sherlock strolled in, looking smug – and smugger as he took the scene in.

“He doesn’t know.” Q pointed accusatorily at Mycroft, addressing Sherlock. “You’re all coming down here, we have to work together, and he doesn’t know. You didn’t think of maybe mentioning it?”

“What is going on here?” Mycroft asked sourly.

“Hello Q.” Sherlock came forward. “Nice place. Are you the boss of all these people? I’m proud.”

“You two know each other?”

Sherlock looked at his older brother with a sorry expression.

“Really, Mycroft? That you never checked on him was already a surprise, but where are your observation skills gone?”

“Sherlock.” Q groaned. “Stop.”

Mycroft looked from one to the other, still frowning.

“I was aware the woman Father left us for was expecting.” He said eventually, coldly as ice. “But I was informed she miscarried.”

“She did.” Q confirmed. “And it took her a long time to recover, but Dad-”

He stopped short, painfully aware of how that innocent little word fell between the three of them – and a good part of the staff, who was only pretending to work. Q cleared his throat.

“Dad stuck with her.” He finished firmly. “And in the end they had me. I guess you’d stopped tracking him by then.”

“I did after a while, yes.” Mycroft said curtly. “When it became clear he wasn’t coming back.”

“Well.” Q said. “If it can make you feel better, he left when I was thirteen.”

“Yes, that’s about old how I was too.”

It sounded so conversational that both younger brothers knew the conversation was over.

“And I don’t know, and don’t want to know, where he is now.” Q therefore concluded. “Now Mr Holmes, detective. I think we have a case to solve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's gonna hear about it ;)
> 
> next chapter sometime this weekend


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don’t expect me to actually give any particulars for the case, I have no ideas about that, it was just an excuse to bring those three together ^^"  
> (also sorry for having no idea whatsoever how the MI6 works)
> 
> As for timeline, it’s after Skyfall (male M) and probably before Reichenbach...

He pretended to need the bathroom – leaving Sherlock and Mycroft bickering over why it was so important to keep the names of some higher-ups a secret – to go and see Eve. Better break the news to her than to M directly.

“Monneypenny.” He smiled as he entered the office – too widely. She knew instantly something was off.

“What have you done?” She accused immediately. “What has 007 done?”

Q frowned.

“I’m not yet acting as mother-hen for 007, thank you very much, when he has a problem he can deal with your wrath himself.”

“Fine.” Eve smiled. “But don’t think I don’t know you two practically moved in together.”

“Not the matter at hand.” Q rolled his eyes. “I need debriefing of all of Q-branch before the end of the day. To make sure we don’t have a security breach.”

Eve frowned.

“Is the case that sensitive?”

“What? Oh. No, the case is more or less the usual, and they know not to blab about it. It’s more of a... buzz control.”

“Buzz control. Now you’re not making any sense.”

“You know, a scoop. News so big people can’t help but go round their friends and colleagues saying _Oh my God you know what?_ in very excited hushed tones. This can’t happen. Which is why I need the big guys to go get a little scary with my staff and make the usual death threats in case anything filters out.”

“Oh, dear.” Eve couldn’t help a smile. “What’s the news? Did you finally make it official with Bond?”

Q sighed. Why did they ever think Monneypenny could be a reliable confident? She really had to stop. Although a part of him wished his problem was indeed just that of dating an agent.

“It’s entirely possible everyone in Q-branch knows my identity.” He revealed instead.

Eve’s smile fell completely, and she even got up from her chair in shock.

“WHAT? And you’re calling that _buzz control_? Tell me this isn’t actually this freaking huge.”

“It gets worse.” Q said calmly.

Eve fell back on her chair heavily, eyes wide.

“You know Mycroft Holmes?” Q asked.

“Do I know Mycroft Holmes?” Eve repeated. “What do you think, of course I know Mycroft Holmes. M calls him his friend but I think that’s because he’s scared of him. Isn’t he here today with his super detective brother?”

“He is, and-”

“What does it have to do with anything? Are you trying to distract me from the point?”

“No, I’m trying to come _to_ the point.” Q said patiently. “The point is I didn’t just announce who I was to my staff. They overheard, when I had little row about it. With my brothers.”

“You have brothers?” Eve almost smiled. “How nice, I didn’t know that! Why are they here?”

“Eve.” Q snapped his fingers. “Are you thick?”

She looked at him, and he saw it dawn on her.

“Oh. Oh! No way. No. Mycroft Holmes is your brother?”

“Half-brother.” Q specified.

“Why did you never tell me!” Monneypenny protested.

Q looked at his watch.

“I met him for the first time exactly thee hours and eleven minutes ago. We had a ten minutes reproachful conversation, and then proceeded to do our jobs in cold silence. Look.” He remembered himself. “We can go over my family history another time with a drink or twelve. The issue here is that _Mycroft Holmes_ being my brother is not the kind of leverage either of us wants people to know about.”

“Guess not.” Eve said. “Does _he_ know?”

He didn’t need to ask whom that alluded to.

“He has clearance to my file. If he looked he knows my name. That doesn’t mean he made the connection. He never mentioned it anyway.”

“Oooh oh oh.” Eve chuckled uncontrollably. “He’ll see red. That is a _bombshell_ , Q. I’ll call the debriefing team.”

“Thank you.” Q appreciated. “Can I leave you the pleasure of telling M?”

“Well, I do have to get the debriefing signed off.” She shrugged. “But you owe me one.”

Q smiled.

“Or twelve.”


	15. Chapter 15

“What were you _thinking_?” Mycroft hissed as soon as Q was out of the room.

He spoke in a hushed voice, aware that they’d more than a little blown the young man’s cover among his staff.

“I didn’t put him here.” Sherlock defended. “He’s still a brilliant Quartermaster, and you need him, just as you need me more often than not.”

“Some warning would have been appreciated.” Mycroft snapped.

“It’s hardly my fault if you didn’t do your research. You’re usually such a stalker, I assumed you knew.”

“You saw perfectly I didn’t.” Mycroft accused. “That’s why you were so cheerful yesterday – I should have known. How did _you_ find out anyway?”

“His boyfriend is a friend of John’s.” Sherlock shrugged. “We went to dinner.”

Mycroft closed his eyes for a second.

“His boyfriend?”

“Charming man.” Sherlock said unconvincingly. “What? You’re that side of Government who doesn’t support gay rights?”

“No I’m not, but that’s hardly relevant.” Mycroft snapped. “Just let me digest that we have a half-brother who’s the MI6 Quartermaster, and who by all indications (he cast a look across the room; obvious: Q barely left his desk; obvious: it was someone within MI6; obvious: that someone was a hothead if he’d gone after Q) is dating an agent.”

Sherlock’s eyebrow barely twitched, and that was all Mycroft needed to roll his eyes.

“And he’s a double-oh.” He sighed. “Brilliant. As if you and your doctor weren’t enough of a liability.”

“No one is asking you to watch over us.” Sherlock retorted, a tiny bit childishly. “The fact that he’s your brother does not alter his ability to do his job brilliantly and take care of himself – and date whomever he pleases. And that goes for me too, mind you.”

“Including the dating part?” Mycroft sneered.

“Oh, do shut up Mycroft.”

“It was funny at the beginning, Sherlock.” Mycroft accused. “But it is becoming cruel, even for you. You can’t ignore the extent to which the good doctor is pining for you.”

“I need a break.” Sherlock said sharply, making as if to go.

“You know I’m right.” Mycroft almost exulted.

“You distract yourself how you can.” Sherlock sent back. “But changing the subject doesn’t mean you don’t know you’re going to have to talk to our brother sooner or later.”

He cast Mycroft an almost sorry look.

“And knowing you, you have too much integrity not to tell Mother. I wish you the best of luck with that. Since she has a habit of shooting the messenger.”

When he was little and he’d pointed out the evidence of his father’s affair, she had stopped talking to him for about five weeks, even turning away when they stumbled upon each other. At five years old, Sherlock had found himself abandoned by both parents. He believed that was where his independent personality came from. His relationship with his mother had remained a little cold ever since. She was a woman of grudges.

Going by Mycroft’s face, he knew that too. Sherlock could also read how he was already planning the way to tell her. Direct the blame on Siger, whom she already blamed anyway. Present Q as a victim. Open the possibility of welcoming him into the family.

“Mycroft.” Sherlock sighed. “You really have a medieval conception of family. We barely met him. Being blood-related doesn’t mean you have to take him in. Doesn’t mean he needs you to.”

“Yes, you made that point already.” Mycroft replied curtly.

It wouldn’t stop him all the same.

“If you’ll excuse me.” He said, confirming Sherlock's suspicion. “I have a phone call to make.”

Sherlock had no doubt it was going to be about security status, and gathering every bit of information it was ever possible to find on Q.

“His name is Ebenezer.” He provided for Mycroft.

Mycroft nodded. It wasn’t exactly a peace offering, and he wasn’t exactly thanking him. But they were on the same page. They had a little brother. They were not going to let him go.


	16. Chapter 16

Mycroft had disappeared to some dark corner when Q came back.

“Is he gone?” He asked Sherlock.

“Just on the phone.” Sherlock said. He scanned him briefly. “Are you compromised?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you.” Q replied dryly.

“What do you expect.” Sherlock half-smiled. “I’m a freelancer. I dislike the Government.”

“You dislike Mycroft.” Q retorted.

“Same difference.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” The youngest brother accused. “The least you could do was to give him the heads up.”

“You don’t understand our relationship.” Sherlock said defensively. “We don’t tell each other things. Sometimes we make it obvious to guess, but that’s as far as it goes. I truly believed it was very likely Mycroft had known of your existence the minute you were born and hadn’t ceased monitoring your every move since. That’s what he does with me, it wasn’t a stretch. Not to mention you’re high-profile. And he wouldn’t have told me, for whatever misconceived reason. I merely returned the favour, hypothetically.”

There was a moment of silence, during which Q looked pensive – and maybe a little resigned.

“He hates me.” He said eventually.

Sherlock shook his head slowly.

“No, he doesn’t. No any bit more than he hates me, yet you’ve seen us together. Family is sacred to Mycroft. Paradoxically that’s precisely why he’s going to need more time to adapt to you.”

Q frowned.

“Because you’re the life Father had after him.” Sherlock explained. “And in Mycroft’s idea of a perfect family in a perfect world, you shouldn’t even exist.”

Q sniffed bitterly. Sherlock’s reaction to him at their first encounter had been so unexpectedly good that he had forgotten his grounds for actually fearing to meet his brothers.

“You said it didn’t matter.” He noted anyway, hopeful maybe.

“To me.” Sherlock confirmed. “But I was only five when Father left. We didn’t have the same relationship with him, at all. I barely knew him. But when Mycroft was a little boy, Father was a young man, and he did a lot of things with his son – he was his first son, his first child, he was so proud. And for Mycroft, well he was this hero. It was a terrible betrayal for him when he left. I don’t think he’s ever completely forgiven him. And you... it’s not your existence he resents, he doesn’t think it’s your fault, that would be ludicrous. But you look a hell of a lot like him. It reminds him that he was once hurt. And he doesn’t do hurt.”

“He didn’t recognize me.” Q pointed out. “If I look so much like our father...”

“Mycroft doesn’t see what he doesn’t want to see.” Sherlock interrupted. “A part of his brain must have noticed – another part dismissed it just as quickly. But once he admits to something, it’s for life.”

“What do you mean?” Q frowned.

“You’re part of the family now.” Sherlock half-smiled. “Mycroft acknowledged it. He’s not going to leave you out of it ever again.”

Q made a face.

“From the way you say that, it doesn’t sound like good news.”

“Well.” Sherlock winced. “How much do you value your privacy?”

Q scoffed this time.

“I hack into personal and secret files for a living.” He said. “It would be rather hypocritical of me to draw a straight line on privacy. Nevertheless, I can override any control Mycroft has on the CCTV network, so I wouldn’t worry. As for kidnapping the boyfriend – yes, John told James, James told me – I would love to see him try.”

“Alright.” Sherlock commented, amused. “No need to go all MI6 on me. I just meant to say Mycroft will keep tabs on you both now.”

“As long as I let him he will.” Q reaffirmed.

“And will you let him?” Sherlock asked seemingly innocently.

Q seemed lost in thought for a minute.

“I’m a solitary person.” He said eventually. “But we share blood and we share a name. If you two want this to have some significance, then I’m not going to stop you. I’ll adjust the mythical picture I had of you from my thirteen year-old imagination, and I’ll give you a place in my life. Time will tell what that place is.”

Sherlock nodded almost affectionately.

“Dear Q.” He approved. “My thoughts exactly.”


	17. Chapter 17

Lestrade was so impressed by the speed with which the case was solved that he didn’t believe it at first.

“I knew the MI6 was rather efficient.” He said. “But that beats all my wildest predictions.”

“The MI6 recently equipped itself with the best of resources, that is all.” Sherlock shrugged.

“Oh.” Lestrade nodded. “And what might that be?”

“A Holmes.”

The detective inspector frowned perplexedly.

“Are you consulting for the MI6 now?”

“No, not _me_.” Sherlock huffed – as always, he was expecting people to follow on things he wasn’t saying for being too obvious.

“They offered Mycroft a job?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Lestrade, do use your limited number of brain cells.”

It took a moment for Lestrade to accept the deduction that imposed itself.

“Oh God, don’t tell me there are three of them. Your poor parents!”

Something flashed across Sherlock’s face, and John cast Lestrade a warning look. “Don’t.” He mouthed.

“Right.” Sherlock said, springing forward. “If there’s nothing else, Inspector, good day. John, let’s go.”

John quickly looked at Lestrade to try and convey he’d explain later. Once they were in the street – and, apparently, Sherlock was determined to walk, giving John a hard time to keep up with the pace of his long legs – John thought, to hell with carefulness, and decided to breach the topic.

“Sherlock, are you alright? I know family is a sore spot, but Lestrade really couldn’t have known. You should....Oh. No, no no no, Sherlock. I can see bad ideas forming in your brain. I know that look. Sherlock. Talk to me. Sherlock.”

Sherlock stopped so suddenly John collided with him. He groaned in pain, but his flatmate didn’t seem to mind – or indeed notice.

“I want to find him.” He announced out of the blue.

John blinked confusedly.

“What? Who?” He asked instinctively, although he had a fairly good idea who.

“My father.” Sherlock confirmed. “I want to confront him. I want... I have no information to delete about him.” He explained. “I cannot file him away, because there is no file.”

“So wait.” John frowned. “You want to meet your father to better forget him?”

“Exactly.” Sherlock lit up, glad to be understood.

“And let me guess.” John sighed. “You’re not going to ask or even tell your brothers about this.”

“Yes.” Sherlock countered. “Well I don’t know about Mycroft. But Q is a lot better equipped to track him down than I am.”

“Q?” John picked up. “You’re going to call him Q?”

“More convenient.” Sherlock justified.

“That’s not... never mind.” John dropped it. “You think he’ll accept?”

“He said he didn’t want to know.” Sherlock said. “But it was quite obvious it was a lie. He’ll accept.”

John had a little unconvinced pout.

“If you say so.”

“When have I ever been wrong?” Sherlock pointed out.

“About the intricacies of human relations and feelings? A lot of times, Sherlock.” John mocked gently. “You can tell what people do, how people live, the physical aspects. You are pretty good at seeing through a lie. But you can’t know what exactly is going on in people’s minds. You actually miss a lot.”

“Like the fact that you are attracted to me?” Sherlock replied.

John gasped, and gaped.

“What?”

“You think I didn’t notice?” Sherlock smirked slightly. “Give me some credit, John. Even half-wits think we are a couple. The signs are pretty clear. I didn’t think you’d ever act on it because it’s not a traditional attraction, it’s complicated, and our platonic friendship works so well. But then you went and insisted on _introducing_ _me_ to your dear friend James Bond, and...Well, and it took an unexpected direction from there. But that’s what it was about, wasn’t it? He’s one of your oldest friends, and you wanted him to meet me. And you wanted me to see how happy he was in his gay relationship – with my brother, as it turns out.”

“Yeah.” John breathed out. “What a mess.”

“You remember what I told you that first night at Angelo’s?” Sherlock went on.

“Yes.” John remembered very clearly. “You thought I was hitting on you, and you were flattered, but married to your work.”

Sherlock nodded.

“The thing is.” He said. “You’ve become my work.”

John remained perfectly still, purposely not interpreting that statement, waiting for Sherlock to develop, which thankfully he did, for once.

“How many cases do I take without you?” He said. “And apart from the ones from the Yard, how many of those don’t come from clients who read your blog?”

John swallowed hard.

“Are you saying you’re no longer married to your work?” He asked. “Or are you saying that you’re now married to me?”

“I’m saying I noticed. And I’m saying we have a relationship of our own, however we define it. It’s there, although it’s not the same as Mr Bond and Q’s. I don’t know if I can give you that – then again, I lack data.”

“Okay, stop.” John laughed. “I get your point. Let’s see where it all leads us, yeah? Like you said, we have a relationship, one that works – in a completely mad way, but it does. I won’t rush its evolution.”

“Good.” Sherlock nodded. “Ready for our next case, then?”

“Ready.” John confirmed.

Sherlock took a breath in.

“Missing person. Siger Holmes.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Setting things in motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a tiny weeny bit, only to let you guys know this thing it sort of back on tracks, at least for as long as I can muster a sliver of inspiration :)  
> This is still going to be small updates, but hopefully I can manage to write a bit now and then, and to eventually finish it.  
> Thanks to everyone who's reading this!

“Are you sure?”

Q pursed his lips.

“James, if you’re going to ask me this one more time, I _will_ punch you in the face.”

James didn’t back up for all of Q’s threat.

“You could have said no.” He pointed out.

“I could have.” Q admitted. “But if there is one thing I took out of my few encounters with Sherlock, it’s that it’s easier to go along with him than try to resist when he’s decided he wanted something.”

“But it’s not fair.” James said. “He’s got the least to lose in this finding-the-father business.”

“Has he?” Q doubted. “Mycroft and I have already been hurt, we know not to get our hopes up. Sherlock was too young to feel the impact with the same strength. I don’t know what’s going on in his strange head, but I’m afraid he’s…romanticizing the reunion scene he imagines.”

“From what I know of him,” James admitted, “he’ll be hoping to dazzle him with his brilliant intellect and show him how much he’s missed by leaving him behind. Yeah, I see your point.”

“He’s right, though.” Q said thoughtfully. “We all have unfinished business with Dad, and maybe it will be good to just, file that case. Move on.” He caught James’s odd look, and added ruefully. “Being abandoned by a parent leaves an indelible trace, no matter how many other things you’ve got in your life and how little you need them practically speaking. The pained thirteen year-old in me won’t disappear if I never face him again.”

James didn’t answer that, but closed the distance between them and gave Q a hug. The younger man let his head drop on the agent’s shoulder with a sigh.

“This is going to fuck me up even more than I already am, isn’t it?” He ask rhetorically.

“If you’re fucked up, I don’t know what I am.” James answered.

“You’re just beyond competition.” Q told him.

“I love you.” James retorted.

Q kissed him, at this point, before going back to his computers and cracking his knuckles.

“Okay. Let’s do this.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a crappy day I had. Thankfully, there is fanfiction.

It took all of two weeks and a half for Q to come knocking on the door of 221B. In one look, Sherlock could tell he’d had the information for at least half of that time lapse. He didn’t mention it.

Ebenezer fidgeted for a while, accepting a cup of tea but not drinking it, the folder conspicuously closed and staring at them from the coffee table. He had refused James’s offer to come with him, and John was working a shift at the hospital; the two brothers were alone. The youngest eventually sat down on the couch and looked up to the middle Holmes.

“Shall we call Mycroft?” He wondered. “I think he’d want us to.”

Sherlock made a face, clearly unhappy about any situation that forced him to consider calling Mycroft as a valid consideration.

“What do you have?” He asked first, cautiously.

“A phone number.” Ebenezer answered, straight to the point.

Sherlock felt slightly like he’d just been slapped. For some reason, he hadn’t expected things to be this direct. He’d wanted circumvolutions, clues and guesses, an investigation (a treasure hunt, Mycroft called it under his breath) of some sorts.

“That was easy.” He commented cautiously.

“Having such a preposterous name sort of helps.” Q said curtly. “I also found an Adair and a Winifred Holmes, so I seriously hope that’s not him still leaving another trail of stupidly-named kids behind him.”

Sherlock shuddered at the possibility, and joined Ebenezer on the couch; he sat gingerly, clearly uncomfortable.

“Let’s call Mycroft.” He said quietly.

Even he was able to make an effort and put their differences aside for a while, given the seriousness of the current situation. This was family – this was the closest they’d got to their father in thirty years (ten for Ben), and there was even potentially (he shuddered again) more siblings to discover. Mycroft could be pretty intense when it came to siblings, and as much as Sherlock was irked by that attitude most of the time, his older brother had always looked out for him. He owed him that much.

The two youngest Holmeses sat there in silence waiting for Mycroft, who said he’d be right there, and each of them was grateful for the other not trying to speak.

When Mycroft arrived, they were still as statues, and pale as ghosts.

Q turned to him first, and he looked all parts like a small child.

“I didn’t look.” He said, nodding to the folder. “I asked one of my people to dig. I only know there’s contact details.” He took a deep breath and added: “It’s up to you guys.”

“I have a question.” Sherlock dropped, turning to Mycroft as Ebenezer had done.

His eldest quirked a brow to acknowledge him.

“It would have been easy for you to get this.” Sherlock almost accused. “So clearly you were not interested in finding him. Which I understand. So why are you keen now? You came running.”

“We’re all in this together.” Mycroft answered calmly, and it didn’t sound like him.

Sherlock clearly made a face expressing he didn’t understand, and it was rare enough that Mycroft developed.

“I have been your father, Sherlock.” He said. “For thirty-one years, I’ve been your father. Even when you stopped needing me to be, which was probably thirty and a half years ago, I know. Still. You’re about to face the man who abandoned you, for some reason you wanted to find him, and so the man who was there for you wants to be here for you now as well.”

Sherlock swallowed and looked down, not even trying to comment on that. Mycroft turned to Ebenezer almost apologetically.

“It has less to do with you.” He admitted. “Although I…”

He paused, looking for the right word, and Q shook his head with a small dismissing wave of his hand.

“You don’t have to say you’re glad I’m here.” He got him off the hook. “I understand.”

There was a moment of slightly awkward silence, and then the youngest brother pushed the folder towards Sherlock.

“Will you do the honours?”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phonecall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so very short ^^". But there was Christmas, and now I'm back to work...  
> Will try to keep updating regularly!

Sherlock dialled, and put the mobile on speakerphone. Someone picked up at the fourth ring. Someone with a warm, assertive voice, even in those two words.

“Good morning.”

Sherlock’s breath hitched, but his own voice was perfectly calm when he spoke.

“Mister Holmes?”

“Speaking.” Came the answer.

To Sherlock’s credit, he didn’t bat an eyelash delivering his next reply.

“This is your son.”

There was a pause, then – none of the three brothers seemed to be breathing – before the man on the other side of the line spoke again.

“Which one?” He asked.

“Actually, all three of them.” Sherlock answered – he seemed to have stopped caring, and had reverted to his insufferably obnoxious tone. “Well. Assuming you stopped there.”

“Sherlock.” The voice in the receiver dropped coldly.

Sherlock raised his head to his brothers in mild shock. How could he know? It’s not like he could recognise his voice. Was it a wild guess? He had a chance out of three after all and-

“I didn’t stay long enough to teach you manners, it seems.” Siger developed, providing an answer. “At least your brothers knew how to speak to their father.”

In a childish move not entirely unlike him, but with more fear than usual, Sherlock threw the phone away from him like it was trying to bite. The mobile bounced and exploded in three different parts; Sherlock gathered his legs close to his chest and proceeded to stare at the floor and sulk.

Everything stood still and silent for a moment, until Q let out a short sigh, patting Sherlock’s back.

“It’s okay.” He said gently. “He does have that effect on people.”

Sherlock shrugged his young brother’s hand, cleared his throat, and went to pick up the split mobile phone. He put the battery in and clipped the back in place, restarted the device, and pressed redial. Siger Holmes picked up again.

“Sorry, we got disconnected.” Sherlock said levelly.

“No problem.” His father answered in a doubtful tone. “So. Sherlock.” It was contempt, now, oozing from his voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Would you like to come over for tea?” Sherlock asked, suddenly inspired.

Both other Holmeses in the room looked at him like he had just sprouted wings. There was a moment of pause on the other side, before Holmes senior spoke again.

“Saturday, five o’clock. Good day.” And he hung up.

Somehow, Sherlock didn’t feel it was worth pointing out that he hadn’t given him his address. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While the crucial chapter is resisting being written, giving you a little something! (this fic has so many fillers ^^" don't hate me)
> 
> I will try to have the next chapter (which we are all waiting for) ready by the end of the week, and if I don't have time to finish it, the end of the weekend. I know those are short and seem to take a ridiculously long time, but as I work 8-9 hours a day on a computer, my brain tends to be fried when I get home... Anyhow!
> 
> After the confrontation, I will probably, eventually, come up with an ending for this story... Well, cross that bridge when we get there!

James had expected Q to be extremely nervous, fidgety, to snap at him and to change outfits about five times before he was satisfied he was presentable for his father. Or, on the other extreme, sharply focused, with than steel voice James had come to recognize as expressing worry, like he was when on a tricky case.

Q, however, was perfectly calm. He’d dressed in his usual cardigan, thinking nothing of it, and was acting all parts like a normal Saturday morning. He’d even wondered out loud if he had time to drop by the office, before renouncing in favour of updating their apartment’s security. Had James not known he had something as significant as seeing his father again planned in the afternoon, he’d never have guessed.

Half an hour before he had planned to leave, Q shut his laptop slowly and turned to James with a thoughtful look on his face.

“Come with me.” He said.

“To meet your father?” James asked, surprised.

“Yes. As my boyfriend.” Q specified.

James had a slight frown.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” He said softly.

“This might be the one and only shot I have at showing my father what I’ve become, as I don’t think we want back into each other’s life.” Q exposed. “Whether he’s interested or not, he might as well get the whole picture.”

“If he’s anything like you and your brothers, he’d have guessed anyway.” James pointed out.

“He’s worse.” Q commented. “He picks up on everything, but he only ever mentions the hurtful bits. That’s why I stopped doing it, deducing people. I don’t care about every single feature of their characters; I just need to know what I need to know. Mycroft only does it mentally, and he has a scary memory about little details. Sherlock babbles, but he’s objective, he doesn’t mean ill, he’s just direct. Dad… he’s looking to hit where it hurts.”

He slipped his hand into James’ hand, and confessed: “Which is also why I would like you by my side. To remind me I don’t care what he might think or say. I’ve got you. I’m a brilliant person and I’ve got you. I don’t need his approval in any part of my life.”

James kissed him, a way for him to confirm and comfort.

“I love you.” He whispered.

Q smiled against his lips.

“You never tire of saying that, do you?”

“As long as you don’t tire of hearing it.” James replied.

 

*

 

“Should I stay?”

Sherlock didn’t answer. In fact, he hadn’t moved for almost twenty minutes, sitting stiffly in his chair, hands joined in front of his lips, staring into space.

“Sherlock?” John insisted. “Do you want me to stay?”

The detective still remained silent, and John was about to ask a third time when the doorbell rang.

“That must be Ebenezer.” John noted. “Sherlock, once again-”

“Stay.” Sherlock cut him short. “This is your home. There’s no reason for you to go.”

“Yoohoo?” Came Mrs Hudson’s usual warning call. “Sherlock, dear, your brother is here.”

Ben and James entered the room, at last eliciting some kind of emotion on Sherlock’s face.

“You brought James?” Sherlock accused, looking straight at his brother.

“You have John.” Q replied.

“He lives here.” Sherlock defended.

“And my boyfriend lives with me.” Q said in a final tone. “I am not interested in pretending I am not exactly who I am. That’s more what you do.”

Sherlock blinked at him.

“Excuse me?”

“You remove yourself from any social category because you don’t want to be defined and labelled.” The youngest Holmes analysed. “That, and you actually enjoy it much when people read you wrong. But you’re not nothing, Sherlock. You’re unusual and extraordinary and hard to figure out, but you’re not something else entirely. You fit into some of those boxes whether you like it or not.” He shrugged. “And you not admitting that to yourself doesn’t stop other people from cataloguing you. Even if they can miss the mark.”

There was a moment of confused silence, which James broke in an amused tone.

“Was that a compliment or an insult?” He wondered out loud.

“That was true.” Sherlock said. “Thank you.” He turned to John. “Do stay. If you want, that is. I’ll just introduce you as my flatmate, though. Let father deduce what he will about you. About us.”

John’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“There’s an us?” He asked to no-one else in particular.

“Don’t be daft.” Sherlock said quickly. “We live and work together. Of course there’s an _us_ , whatever it is.” He frowned, not quite managing not to smile at the same time. “Didn’t we have this conversation before?”

“This is not quite the same.” John noted. “You…noticing things,” he developed embarrassedly, “and introducing me to a father you don’t know, that’s not quite the same.”

“I’m not _introducing_ you.” Sherlock denied. “Not…” He shook his head. “Just stay.”

“Okay.” John nodded.

“Thank God.” Came Mycroft’s voice from the doorway. “This was getting painful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, ladies and gentlemen, Siger Holmes!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

“Well, this is quite the party.”

Scanning, judging, condescending. Siger Holmes had not taken three steps into the room that everyone present instinctively hated him. Even Mrs Hudson, who’d brought a full tray of afternoon tea, cast him a disapproving look as he stood there, tall and disdainful, an older version of Sherlock (although the man, in spite of being sixty-seven, didn’t look a day over fifty) with shorter hair but his long coat, Ebenezer’s glasses and Mycroft’s umbrella. Piercing blue eyes that were not quite either of theirs.

“I thought this was a family reunion.” Holmes senior went on, laying down his umbrella against the armchair, shrugging his coat off, and settling in comfortably, making himself at home.

“There are several definitions of family.” Sherlock noted. “Especially when the natural one fails you.”

“Is that so.” Siger sneered, sparing a haughty glance for John.

Mrs Hudson retreated to her own flat downstairs; she would have fought alongside these boys any day, but she felt it wasn’t her fight.

“So!” Sherlock slapped his hands. “What now?”

“We play rock-paper-scissors to decide who gets to punch him in the face first?” Q suggested coyly.

The Holmes father snapped his head to his youngest, so fast he might have strained a muscle, but his face softened when his eyes landed on the young man.

“Ebenezer.” He said almost tenderly. “You were always my favourite.”

In the corner of the room, Mycroft rolled his eyes so hard it was audible.

“Really.” Q reacted with a tiny smile. “I am having a hard time believing that.”

“Do you three know what I do for a living?” Siger Holmes enquired.

Knowing his show-offish tendencies, everyone including his brothers waited for Sherlock to scan the man, his eyes moving quickly and identifying clues. He raised a slightly surprised brow when he was done.

“Conman.” He deduced. “And let’s not mention the gambling.” He mentioned. “Interesting. And they say the apple never falls far from the tree.”

“Indeed.” Holmes senior commented. “Government.” He said with a look to Mycroft. “MI6 – you’ve done well for yourself, son.”

Given how his gaze flickered towards James, there was no telling with certainty whether that statement included Ben’s relationship (and if so, to what extent it was ironical). He went back to Sherlock, making a cynical face.

“And…whatever it is you are doing with the Yard…” He finished. “Anyhow, my point is. My life sometimes led me to dangerous places.”

“No.” Q suddenly dropped sharply.

Everyone cast him a quizzical look.

“No.” He repeated, turning a sharp gaze to his father. “You’re going to pull some ‘I left for your own good’ crap?” He accused. “Fuck you.”

He got up, still outwardly calm, but probably experiencing some kind of internal turmoil.

“We’re going.” He demanded of James.

“Ben.” Siger tried pleading. “You have to believe I would have stayed if I had thought that was better for you.”

“Right.” Q dismissed.

He took James’s hand, which he could see clenching and unclenching as the agent controlled his impulses of hitting something (or rather someone) and smiled softly at him. James could only smile back. None of them noticed the disapproving wrinkle that appeared at the corner of Siger’s mouth as he cringed ever so slightly. Sherlock did, and his own fists tightened.

“Is that also why you left us?” Mycroft questioned extremely distrustfully.

“Oh, no.” Mr Holmes answered casually, momentarily distracted from his contrite act. “I left because your mother was driving me insane.”

Sherlock tensed even more, and then suddenly relaxed, and turned to John.

“Actually, I can relate.” He whispered to him.

John had a tense smile.

“And because the little rat sold me out.” Siger added, turning an icy stare to Sherlock. His contempt, his dislike even, was obvious. Sherlock didn’t flinch. He was used to this kind of looks.

“And that’s the best thing that could have happened to us.” Mycroft snapped.

Silence fell as everyone in the room looked at him with various expressions. The most poignant was in Sherlock’s eyes, as he understood he was forgiven. Thirty years (and an encounter with a douchebag they were better off without) later, he was forgiven.

“Take his side.” Siger scoffed in disdain. “You always have. I lost you the moment he was born.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “You had so much potential. All wasted for this little brat. I once hoped-”

He was interrupted as John got up and cut him short: “Enough.” He said firmly.

Mr Holmes raised a brow at him, giving him about as much credit as he would have a cockroach.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re in my home.” John established. “You’ve been here ten minutes and you’ve insulted my partner, my landlady and all our guests. And you’re leaving, now.”

“Am I?”

“OUT!” John raised his voice. He then turned to Q and James. “Please, stay for tea, will you? Mrs Hudson made carrot cake.”

“If there’s carrot cake.” James grinned.

“Excuse me.” Sherlock addressed his father. “This is my seat.”

Siger got up, outraged.

“This-” He started.

“This is yours.” James interrupted, throwing the man his coat.

“For cabs, I suggest Marylebone road.” Mycroft said courteously, showing him the door.

“This-” The man started again, but interrupted himself, and stormed out trying to look dignified.

James set out to cut the cake. John spread out the teacups and began filling them. Mycroft settled on the couch, and Q started looking at the bookshelf and its motley collection of titles.

“Case closed.” Sherlock said.


End file.
